


shoulders too broad for a girl

by ICQB45



Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coming Out, F/F, Homophobia, Slow Burn, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-07-23 18:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16164758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ICQB45/pseuds/ICQB45
Summary: Do you ever…..feel like you’re drowning?Do you ever feel the panic? Burning throat, stinging eyes searching for the nearest opening back to surface, pleading, begging the Earth to gift one last fleeting breath as currents and debris plummet you back down to the cold, unnerving depts.





	1. Chapter 1

Do you ever…..feel like you’re drowning?

Do you ever feel the panic? Burning throat, stinging eyes searching for the nearest opening back to surface, pleading, begging the Earth to gift one last fleeting breath as currents and debris plummet you back down to the cold, unnerving depts. 

Few times she meets the air, few far and between - soft, gentle hands of a childhood friend layering pink, fairy sparkle nail polish her mom bought her that day, a new dress to wear for their daily play dates. Days of true ignorant bliss. 

They’re older now, she couldn’t make excuses to her parents why Brody painted her nails the night before anymore. 

She’s been underwater ever since. 

“Adlon!” Mr. Everett called out, pulling her attention away from the window. He waves the laser pointer, the red dot settling on Italy. “What’s the answer?” 

She eyes the class - kids doodling or typing away on their hidden smartphone, and the textbook; no Italy, no Mussolini either. She shrugs, pulling her attention back to the window. Mr. Everett sighs.

“Pay attention next time -,” She zoned out, slightly cringing at the mention of her name. She draws attention to the gym period, the kids running on the track. It’s a Monday.

Her eyes land on a girl, following her movements - she pulls her right arm in more, dragging her left foot behind. She will never make it in the Track Team. 

It’s a running joke, in her group of friends. (Are they her friends anymore?) Her mind wanders to the nearest girl that comes by, spending minutes watching them. Marlon teases her, urging her to get the girls number (“She was totally checking you out, man!”).

 

She shifts her weight, switching her attention to one of the boys. The memory brought back emotions - too many she felt multiple times than she can count. Fear, disgust, envy. The water, it burns. 

She pulls out of her thoughts by the bell. Throwing the book and slinging her bag over her shoulder, the other students push against her, a chance to be the first ones at the door. She shutters, her head brushes the door frame. 

She ignores Mr. Everett’s farewell, auto-piloting to her next class as she has done so many times.

She's so absorbed by her thoughts, she barely notices the brush of another human arm. She glances - Brody, pulling a bright smile to her best friend.

Or what was once her best friend.

She rolls her eyes, fueling her stride to get away from the short southern girl. She feels the hurt but is aware Brody is no quitter. 

“Hey,” Brody rushes out, blocked and pushed by their fellow peers. “Hey -,” Her name again. She flashes a scrowl, taking longs steps this time.

She reaches the door, the sun blinding her. A moment to adjust her eyes, she faced Brody.

“You, uh, you certainly grew that last time we saw each other.” Brody compliments. Her scowl deeps, looking at the direction of her next class. Hurt. It resides.

It’s irrational, to blame it all one person. None of this is Brody’s fault; the way she feels, some insignificant promise the two made at age 9. (“You’ll see! You’ll grow up just like me!) Minnie and Sophie leaving.

It’s unfair. But it didn’t matter. 

The late bell rings, cutting off Brody. 

“I need to go, class.” She says, hearing her own voice. Deep, raspy. A wave of disgust engulfs her. 

Gym. Clothes easily swaying after a breeze, her body a little too scrawny for her own good, sweating kids stinking up the place.

She hunched over, crossing her arms over as a safeguard. Glancing left and right, she finds Mr. Garcia gesturing the kids outside. She perks her ears to the other boys conversation. 

“Did you hear - there’s a new girl coming today.”

“A new girl?!?! Is she hot??”

“I don’t know dude, but all I know is Everett adopted her.”

“Everett? I thought he was poor?”

She rolls her eyes, uninterested the second they started insulting Mr. Everett's situation. Garcia called them over once more, explaining today’s lesson. 

It’s Monday. They’re running today.

Many of the kids run ahead of her. She gave her best effort, a short job halfway the track, walking following suit. She hears Mr. Garcia in the distance, encouraging them to give their best, especially her. She pays no mind to the man, rather encouraged to think of her interaction with Brody. She feels guilty.

“Hey.” Her head to turns to her left, Louis comes running by her, slowing his jog to level his speed with hers. His smile, infectious. She bit her bottom lip to suppress a smile.

“So - How’s our local brooding giant doing on this fine day?” He breathes in and out, grinning playfully. She rolls her eyes, amused. She eyed the compression piercing his gym uniform. 

She only knew Louis for a short time. His personality never changed, the same annoying, too over his head, kind-hearted boy.

One thing change though. He left last summer, visiting family back home, he said. He cut all contact, leaving their messages on read or leaving them on voicemail.

Then, he comes back, after two months. New hair, new style, a new name. Louis.

He brought a big ol smile along with.

(“What. What happened to you?!?!” Marlon explodes. Fist clenching, supporting a death stare at Louis. He pushes him, hard. 

“Marlon, Marlon man, I’m still me!!!” 

“No, no you’re not. You’re,” Marlon angrily glances to the ground, spitting near his feet, “You’re some fucking freak.” 

“Marlon, what the fuck.” She steps between the two, matching her growl with his.

“What the fuck dude?? How could you be - be supporting this fucking faggot!!” She sees red - she shoves Marlon to the ground. He scrambles away, keeping a distance.

“You mean you’re friend? The one you knew since fucking childhood? I expect more from you, Marlon.”

“Oh don’t give me that shit -,” She tilts her head, she considered punching him, “You stopped being friends with Brody a long fucking time ago.” He brushes his sports jacket, glaring at the people he once thought of as friends. He spits on her face.

“Never fucking speak to me again.”)

She looks in front of her, the memory bringing no good. She crosses her arms.

“Ooooh, the silent treatment.” Louis laughs, walking parallel to her, arching his back to stretch out to work on his stressed joints. “I know you can't resist my boyish charm. I’ll crack those walls in no time.”

“I’ll like to see you try.” She replies, not bothering to stop the small smile. Louis matches her. 

An understanding. She wonders if he knows, too.

After the first lap, her attention is drawn to a new girl, conversing with Mr. Javier over a green paper.

Short, stocky, wearing a baseball cap that certainly seen better days. 

Hair jumbled into one ponytail. Violet, was the color. 

She looks up, their eyes meet. She raises an eyebrow and smiles.

She looked away, covering her face with shoulder, pretending to be talking to Louis.

She’s pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs to listen to: Open Up The Door - Mulherin  
> Transgender Dysphoria Blues


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gang gang

Clementine.

Clementine, mandarines her meemaw fed her after a day of fun. Sweet, savory, a distant reminder of simpler times.

Clementine, a pretty girl wearing a worn out Dodgers hat.

Clementine, Georgia born. No parents, freak accident- scratch that, adopted parent. Everett’s adopted daughter.

It's no surprise she seeded her way into every kids' conversation, a newfound interest among extra therapy sessions or shitty memes. A new student, fitting right in with the rest of the finest “troubled youth.”

But, a special case too. Nothing seems to be wrong with her. She seems…

Perfect.

Algebra 1, Biology, and P.E. Those are the classes they have together.

She catches herself gawking, as always. Losing herself for minutes on end. Recoiling in disgust, revolted by her actions.

Their fellow peers have taken notice.

(“Hey,” A finger jabs her back - sweet, almost sickeningly, southern drawn whispers. She angles her head to the source. The class is fairly quiet, cutting short only a few times by students whispering.

“That girl - Clementine,” Ruby - or was it, Rudy? - nodding towards her direction, said girl is too immersed in her work, oblivious to any conversation concerning her, “I notice you been staring at her a lot lately. You got a crush on her or something?”

Her stomach flutters. Her breath draws back fast. 

She draws her attention back to her paper, no doubt her cheeks broadcasting her sheepishness. Her lack of an answer ushers no offense. She can almost hear her smile - she grips her pencil tightly to what is said next.

“Aw, how cute.” )

Weeks pass, routine asserts itself right back where it belongs; many students returning to their own devices. Leaving our newest addition to blend in. 

No major interactions have occurred so far. Passing by through Mr. Everett’s door, quick glances, controlling her staredowns to avoid anyone else catching on. 

Clementine.

Buzzing, a microscopic tick she can’t seem to get rid off.

-

It’s a Wednesday.

Morning group therapy sessions had always been a bore, normally leaving her exhausted and hungry. Half her peers agreed, all beelining towards their daily assembly. Cafeteria.

She blasts her music up to maximum volume, a semi-effortless attempt on her part. Steering clear of the havoc, she holds on to the poor excuse of ‘food’ and resigns to a small, secluded circle table. She waits for her partner in crime to show up. 

She’s never used to it, noisy environments; her anxiety is at the highest of its peak. Even before ending her friendship with the rest of the group, some days she leaves to decompress, offering no warning to anyone about where's she going or even her whereabouts.

Still, she’s rendered surprised when she finds Louis following her.

A small cough interrupts her flow - she sets her spork down and raises her head, expecting only to see Louis.

She sees Louis. 

And Clementine. 

Her stomach turns and twirls; her knees weak, her body imperial to assaulting tides of her sea. 

She looks down back to her food, refusing to acknowledge either of them, hoping to steady the rapid beats of her heart. In an instant, their smiles drops but Louis brings his right back up.

“Hi -“ Louis says mockingly, purposely heightening his voice to mimic Clementine’s voice, ”I’m Clementine,” She instantly rolls her eyes, he deepens his voice to imitate hers, “Hi Clementine, I’m -, nice to meet you.” 

She catches Clem's eyes; Amber. Pretty. 

“What he said.”

“Ah,” He exasperated, taking his usual place across her and motions Clementine to sit next to him, “Take no offense. It’s just the teenage angst.” She glares at Louis as he giggles, Clementine, joining in shortly. Scarlet wastes no time erupting. She stabs her spork into her food.

“So, Clementine,” Louis soothes over after a few minutes of silence. Clementine raises a brow, “You mention knowing my dear friend here.” She shifts her eyes to Clementine, who cracks a smile.

“Yeah! We have algebra and biology together.” She widens her eyes a bit, Clementine’s smile stays, “You aren’t exactly that hard to notice.”

“Was it the tallness, or the hair?” Louis quips, a shit-eating grin surfacing on his face. She instinctively runs her hand through her hair, shooting another glare at Louis. An empty pit forms in her stomach.

 

She watches them exchange, quietly. She reminds herself of Ruby and little digs from their other peers - her nerves are completely shot. It’s so simple now - to spiral; realize the guilt of it all. 

 

What else could’ve she noticed? The staring? How could she make it so fucking obvi- 

“You two seem inseparable.” Clementines’ comment draws her back to reality. She eyes both of her and Louis, back and forth, “Whenever I look during P.E., you two are always arm's length from each other.”

She’s right. Louis typically wastes no time searching for her in her various hiding locations, risk plummeting his own grade to keep her company. Not that she’s complaining.

‘Testing out new material’ he emphasises. She knew better.

“You got that right.” Louis takes a bite out of his food, “I feel like...we were twins in another life. We’re like…...two peas in a pod. The peanut butter to my jelly. The -”

“Pain in my ass?” She interjects steadily; speaking for the first time in minutes, she attempts to keep any visible distress under wraps. Her rude intrusion did not deter Louis in any way, however. 

“Oh, you know you love me.” Louis switches his attention over to their guest.

“Clementine! Enough about us,” He sets one elbow on the table, resting his head against his hand, “As our newest addition to our small, very tiny hour of peace, I think it’s only fair if we ask you some questions.”

Clementine locks eyes with her, a brow rises. Her stomach swooshes and swirls. She shrugs.

“Okay, I’m game.” Clem pushes her plate away, devoting her attention to Louis. “Ask away.”

“Excellent!” He purses his lips, a look of contemplation crosses his face. “What’s your story? You're not like the other delinquents. You actually seem quite normal.” Clementine snorts.

“I’d say I’m far from normal,” Clem draws her arms down to her lap, “There’s….not much to tell. I was adopted by Lee -,”

“Lee?” Louis cuts in.

“Mr. Everett,” She answers him, one arm sprawled along the table and her plate completely disregarded. His mouth creates an 'o' shape.

“Yeah - after what happened to my parents, Lee took me in as soon as he could. My little brother too.”

“Little brother?” She inquires next. Clementine smiles faintly.

“Well, adopted little brother. His parents died around the time he was born,” Clementine's sight glazes over. “His name is AJ.” 

The air’s different. Rigid; she could cut through the tense and still wouldn’t hit the bottom. Before she can change the subject, Louis blurts out the next thing that comes into his, stupid, moronic brain.

“What happened to your parents?” Realization sets upon Clementine's immediate discomfort, “I - you don’t need to answer-“

“Who are you rooming with?” Louis looks visibly relieved when she switches the subject. Clem is torn away from her short spell.

“Huh?”

“Who are you rooming with?” She asks again, veering her eyes downward, “School requires all students to bunk with 3 other kids.”

“Oh - Oh, yeah,” Clementine slightly adjusts her hat, curls popping out under, “I haven’t had the chance to get to know them all that much, but their names are Brody, Omar, and Aasim.”

Bell rings deafen all sounds, following kids scuffing and flopping their trays into the garbage. Louis is quick on his feet, slightly dazed from the aforementioned names.

Her own reaction isn't much different. Brody. Shit. 

“Always breaks my heart to say this,” Louis mutters, loud enough for his companions to hear, “This concludes our daily afternoon communion. Thank you, Clementine, for joining us today. See you two later.”

As Louis is about to take his leave, he rests a hand on her shoulder. He leans forward, grinning. In a hushed tone, he whispers,

“Gang-gang.” 

He then strides away, piling his tray on the rest.

She stifles a laugh, Clementine watching with utter confusion over the transaction.

They lock eyes, briefly. Clementine’s smile is kind, peaceful waves breeze past seaweed. She’s floating down, static. Quiet. Her lips curve upward, she's compelled to smile back. 

“Algebra’s next, right?” Clementine queries. She nods, murmuring out a “yeah.”

She lifts her eyes, a realization sets as she casts away her and Clementines' plates, flinging her bag over her shoulder. Algebra together, going their separate ways then meeting outside Mr. Everett’s. P.E is after.

She wouldn’t be alone much anymore. 

“You don't talk much.” Clementine follows close by; occasionally their arms brush together. She smirks. Clementine barely reaches her shoulder.

“I’m not exactly….a people person.” Clementine raises her right eyebrow. Before she can say anything else, she’s bumped backward - her soles breaking her fall short. 

Marlon scoffs at the sight of her. Under his breath, she can parse a slur or two before he merges with the hordes of students crowding the halls.

“Who the hell was that?” Clementine admonishes, stopping short behind her. She surveys past, striving to get a good glimpse of him. 

“An old friend.” She rolls her eyes, “I wouldn’t worry about him. His only redeemable quality is that dead cat he calls hair.” Clementine audibly inhaled. “He thinks it’s...cool.”

“I wouldn’t be going around picking fights if I’m one second away from getting animal control called on me.” She sucks her teeth, biting her lip to control her snickering. The following late bell strikes fear in stragglers; everyone scatters, quickening their pace. 

They reach their destination - gliding away to their respective sets.

Her hand clutches her bag. A smile sets, refusing to leave all period.

-

Tuesday. Gym day.

She remains isolated from her friends (She has only known Clem for a week, can she even consider her a friend?), Clem and Louis entertaining themselves up ahead. Clem laughs at whatever stupid joke Louis tosses at her, but theirs and the rest of the class’ laughter subsides instantly by Mr. Garcia’s whistle.

Situated on the bleachers, she watches Mr. Garcia instruct everyone on today’s lesson. She tunes him out, untying and tying her shoelaces. She’s pulled out of her trance from another whistle.

“Ok! Girls on the left, boys on the right!” Mr. Garcia calls out, his voice temporarily echoing.

Her stomach drops; her gym clothes lazily hanging burns, threatening to inundate her very being. 

She considers the extra soccer net laying at the end of the court. Navigating her way around the boys, reaching temporary refuge from the ensuing chaos.

Sneakers squeaking act as white noise to her. She pulls out her phone, engrossing herself into social media. She looks up once, momentarily finding Clem and Louis looking at her direction, clear concern crosses Clementine’s face.

Heart palpitation. She averts her glance, swiping up quickly to create an illusion of business. 

She keeps up this act until a set of sneakers comes close. She pulls her eyes up; Mr. Gracia stands over her, brows furrowed in disappointment.

“-,” She faces down, “You need to start participating with the rest of the class. I can’t keep covering for you.” Gentle, but firm. 

“Never asked you to.” She hears him sigh. He bends down to her level.

“Your parents won’t be too happy to hear about this” She scoffs - her parents have never given a flying fuck about her.

One small incident with mom’s makeup, and she’s ostracized. The black sheep no one dares to talk about. A fucking plague ruining what already was broken.

Mr. Garcia rubs the back of his neck. She notices his beard twirls inwards, unlike how hers or the other kids' beards grow. 

“Listen kiddo,” He says warmly, loosening the grip of his clipboard and giving her his full attention, “I - uh. I was a little like you when I was your age.” He stops short after she frowns, muttering something indecipherable.

“I uh…..I’m not like the certified therapists here. But I don’t bite.” He smiles, “I’m here if you need someone to talk to, my offices are open after classes end.”

Too good to be true. It rattles her core. 

‘Like her?’ Does he…..know? 

Is he….what she’s not ready to face about herself? 

She forces a smile, viscerally aware of her stubble. She forces herself not to scratch.

“Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.”

-

Thursday. 

“She thinks you’re cute.” Louis professes, amidst the cafeteria’s normal vibrations. 

‘She’ in question was missing from the table, mentioning at one point Mr. Everett was in need of some help.

She pulls the back of her hand up, partially covering her face.

“Shut up.” He’s all smiles, humming and drumming his fingers against the table.

“I’m serious. The dark and brooding, and ‘if I hunch over hard enough I’ll turn into a ball and cry my problems away’ attitude is finally working its charm.” He laughs as she kicks his shin. “I was asking her if she’s dated anyone before.”

She groans. “Oh my god -“

“What!? It’s a perfectly valid question to ask!” He shifts his weight, crossing his arms on the table. “She said no, one thing led to another, and I might’ve asked her if she’s interested in anyone in the school and she might or might not have said that you’re cute.” He reaches over to her plate, grabbing a piece of a cookie. He sighs dramatically. “To think I had a chance.”

She smacks his hand away, resulting in him faking a gasp of horror. 

She never bothers to wipes her smile off. She’s on cloud 9. Exhilarated, elated - what feelings she can parse explain the burst of energy; a friend supporting her and not a hint of a jealous bone in him. Supporting her, in his own way. She loves him for it.

She would never admit it to Louis, though. 

-

Tuesday morning.

Intercom rings resounded, disgruntled teens trudging to their classes. She sits in her seat, glancing at the whiteboard - she raises her eyebrows, Omid Madani, guess they have a sub today - drawing her attention to Clementine rushing her way in before the final bell buzzes.

Clem turns her head over to her, grinning and waving to her. She smiles softly, a short wave back. Mr. Madani comes following behind the last student. 

“Alright, class!” Mr. Madani announces, packing loud, energetic vibes. An unprecedented amount she never saw from someone before, especially in the morning. 

“Your teacher, unfortunately, won’t be joining us. I’m,” he points to the board, “Omid Madani - said exactly how it’s spelled - and some of you might know me from your history class.” Several kids whooped behind her, stifling laughter from the rest.

“Let’s see here,” He flips open a set of papers, a sound of Eureka as he finds the page he needs, “You'll be doing a project, starting today!” The whole class groans.

“C’mon, give us the day off!” One student speaks up.

“And have Ms. Cranky on my ass? No way dude.” A couple of students giggle. He pulls a pile of papers out. “Since you’re the first one to speak up,” he brings up his clipboard with his other hand, “Marvinnnn~, you get to pass out the papers!” 

Marvin reluctantly stands up and grabs the papers, handing out loaded bundles to each row. She grabs her part, passing the rest over to the kid behind her. Presentation and an essay. Great.

“Teach wants you guys in a pair of twos,” Mr. Madani scans over the class and mumbles to himself, flipping back and forth on the clipped papers. He slides out a piece, clearing his throat.

“Okay, everyone!” Attracting attention back to him, he mouths the words, “Here's who you'll be pairing up with! Alexander, you’re with Nicolle. Daniel, you’re with Jonathan…”

She dazes out as Mr. Madani goes down the list. She considers permitting her long, lasting sleep spell to overcome her at the very moment. 

“Clementine, you’re with -. Elijah, you’re with…” A small fluttering feeling makes itself know in her stomach. She’s not too sure whether to shout and praise the high heavens or to curse out her luck.

She waits - centering her eyes nowhere. She observes, minutes later, Clem turns a desk in front her to face her, scraping the floor grain to achieve this feat.

Clem’s twinkle naturally draws her own. She stops bothering holding them back. 

“Hey there partner.” She feels a little shy, blinking away for a split second, “How about we get started?”

Back and forth, ideas ricochet for minutes. She admits, she’s not much of a science lover - biology especially is nowhere near her forte. She proposes Clem should take over the base of operations, which the smaller girl gleefully accepts.

“I was thinking,” Clem rotates her phone, swapping up and down on her screen, “we can do this in the essay,” she zooms into a plant, then glides her screen back to a chart of molecular breakdowns, “then in the presentation we explain the process - good, right?” 

She hums in agreement. Clem wastes no time setting up the document, she takes her time setting up the presentation. Their glances collide - they exchange smiles, and each time there’s a fluttering in her stomach. She wishes she could pause this moment.

“Alright, class! Start packing up. You got two minutes before the bell rings.” Mr. Madani alerts the class, everyone hurries to put their things away.

“Let’s work on this after school,” Clem says, turning the desk back to its original position, leaning back on the backrest. “My roommates don’t mind visitors.” 

She nearly snaps her pencil in half - Brody’s likely to be present. She holds back any display of nervousness; she can’t face her. Not yet.

“How about my room?” she counters - Clem pulls up her right brow. “I bunk alone. No one there to distract us.” 

She dances her pencil - Clem’s expression holds surprise and curiosity. Chimes from the bell cut short all talks.

“It’s a date.” There was her answer. Clem left with no more than a smile planted on her face. 

She is the last one to leave; she exhales a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in.

-

She waits outside her room - absentmindedly typing away on her phone. Students roam the halls, existing in and out their dorms, winding down over the daily curriculum or planning for the nightly school activities.

In her peripheral vision, she spots Clem maneuvering her way to her. She slides her phone back into her pocket, rolling her shoulders to readjust her bags.

“Ready?” Clem asks, after a quick exchange of hellos. Clem seems a little too excited - she smirks. She jiggles her keys, turning and unlocking her door. 

“Nerd.” She teases. A shoe hits the back of her ankle.

“Shut up.” 

She steps in first, leaving the door wide open for Clem. Hearing the click, she’s instantly in autopilot - dropping her bag onto the ground, riffling through her things.

“You really bunk by yourself?” Scarfing against the floor paneling indicates Clem’s residing on the desk chair. She hums back.

“Yeah, headmaster dickhead’s leaving me alone until next semester,” she answers, finding what she was looking for, a hair tie - she pulls her hair back, and takes her place on her bed, adjacent to Clem. “Closest thing to the luxury experience my parents were oh so promised.” 

Clem smiles somewhat, knocking her legs together and pulling her hands onto her lap. She has the tendency to do that. It’s cute. 

“Who did you bunk with before?” 

Clem’s question catches her by surprise. She snakes her arm around the bed ladder, leaning on it gently. She twists her face slightly. “A pair of twins. Sophie and Minnie.” She can’t hold back the small tug on her face. “Sophie was the artistic type. Almost everything you see on the walls is Sophie’s handiwork.” Both glance around at the various posters pressed tightly on the interior.

“Minnie,” pressure on her chest, her waters rise, “Minnie was something else. Amazing singing voice. Real bluesy.” She observes Clem - the girl possesses a curious look, enamored in what she’s saying. She pinches the bars. “Remember the dude we ran into earlier this week?”

“You mean rat boy?” Clem queries back. She chuckles, she failed to remember Clem delightfully dubbing Marlon a series of rat-like nicknames after their encounter.

“Yeah, rat boy. He and Minnie wanted to start a band together. On the road, with only their voices and a guitar in hand.” The old days - back when shit wasn’t extraordinarily fucked. Back when Marlon wasn’t an asshole, back when she was able to be around Brody. She frowns, staring at one of Minnie’s drawings.

“Do you sing?” Clem hooks her - she lifts her eyelids. A deep, unruly force inside her forces a wave of emotions to jolt her being. She slithers her out of the bars, casting her eyesight down while overlapping her arms.

“Used to.” Her voice loses its touch, her vocal vibrations itches her skin. “After school I would go practice with the church group, studying gospel after gospel. Sing in front of everyone every Sunday.” She scoffs at the memories. “After I got here, I never took the time to practice.” Quiet - this can’t be real. Did she fuck up -

“I would’ve loved to hear you. Sing, I mean.” Clem never ceases to catch her off guard, their eyes connect, “I bet you sounded amazing.” A shift in tides, her body is knocked around but she doesn’t mind, she lets the waters choke her, only for a second.

“Uh, thanks.” She's painfully aware of the scarlet resting on her face. Clem stares onward, never breaking contact.

“We should get started on the project.” She takes the initiative - stretching for her bag, hauling her computer out.

“Oh! Yeah, let’s go ahead,” Clem follows her movements, drawing her own computer, resting its base on the desk, “Where do you want to get started?”

The air’s different. Sweet, a changing breeze between them. She welcomes it. 

-

“Lights out!” Piercing static of the principal’s voice fills the air, grumbles protested to the nightly reminder. Scruffs and creeks of students rushing to their doors following one another. Doors shut, one by one, echoing down the hallways, bouncing back and forth until the last door shuts. 

Silence.

She tosses and turns; laying on back, her mind drifts to Clementine’s laugh over Louis’s stupid joke he was so keen on telling every damn day.

She crinkles her nose. Laying on her right, her mind oh so helpfully reminds her of the rising eyebrow, Clem’s signature expression to anything she’s slightly curious about.

A sigh of frustration. Laying on her left, she studies the lone chair lazily put in the middle of the room. Only hours ago Clem sat there, interested in the stories she never told a soul before. Her cheeky smile. The bounce of her curly locks. 

Her heart stops, her eyes widening as she deftly gripes the white sheets.

Fuck.

Currents push and pull; gifting no barring of the environment or peace. She can't breathe - the water, it burns.

She pushes herself off the bed, shivering to the exposure. She treads the creaking floors, careful and calculated. She has done this a million times before. If you make no noise, security's oblivious to any wrongdoing. 

She tugs the doors pull gently, filching her hand from freezing metal. She carriers her sight up, eyeing her prize before her. 

Sophie’s old storage box, collecting months’ worth of dust. 

Her movements are stiff. She clings to the handle for dear life, her only guiding light is the twins’ glowing stars, green impressions contrasting the room’s dull colors.

Hesitation. She unclasps the hooks. Steady and slowly, she pulls the lid over, revealing dried up paint brushes, bristles too dense to be of any use. Her face screws at the sight of a not-so-well-hidden blunt. She lifts the compartment, only caring for the contents underneath. 

Her hand clams up - she places the plastic down. Never-ending darkness, the ocean nests terrors humans cannot comprehend, only to react with horror and disgust. 

The waters rush her lungs. Minnie’s old clothes, neatly folded to fit the box’s confines. She grabs her shirt, it unfolds lazily by itself as she raises it above.

(“Ugh - totally last season.” Minnie groans, throwing the shirt behind her. 

Tops, pants, shorts, sweaters - all types of clothing you can think of, accumulated over the few short years Minnie attended the school. All now discarded and viewed as garbage by the redhead. 

She winces. Only a few months ago, Minnie practically begged Sophie and her to go visit the town over’s excavated selections.

“You won't have any clothes left for the trip if you keep this up.” She comments, more teasing than scolding. Minnie turns her head over, smiling sweetly. 

“What do you mean, I have more than enough right here!” “More than enough” her ass. The pile next to her is smaller compared to the scattered garments. 

She eyes her girlfriend knowingly. Minnie sticks out her tongue. 

“You don't understand, babe - where we’re going, you need to look the part.” She hums. She picks up one of the discarded items, piquing Minnie’s attention. 

“Donate them. Or, actually, give them to some of the girls here.” Minnie huffs, scanning over another of her shirts. “They need to learn a thing or two about fashion.”) 

Her chest feels heavy; Minnie’s shirt cuts just above her belly button. 

Fluttering, cloth touching her skin. Sculpting her form.

Pants fit snuggly, her ankles only exposed to the dropping temperatures.

First time in years, she. She- 

Emotions rush her being, catching her off guard. She slumps on her bed, cradling her head to navigate, make sense of what she is feeling. 

Up - her body persisting. Currents dancing around her form, she flails her arms desperately, using all her might to reach.

For the first time in years, she sees a hand reach out to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs to listen to: Empty - Kevin Abstract   
> Human Sadness - Julian Casablancas+The Voidz

**Author's Note:**

> Songs to listen to: Open Up The Door - Mulherin  
> Transgender Dysphoria Blues


End file.
